


A Beautiful Death

by drunkbedelia



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Implied Overdose, Klaus angst, but mainly Klaus, but then at the end some happiness, drugs and alcohol mentioned, it's vaguely the whole gang, with a touch of dave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:55:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26291497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drunkbedelia/pseuds/drunkbedelia
Summary: A swift blade cuts the sky in two; sends him tumbling into a vast darkness. His thoughts fall with him. What if they are not there to greet him? What if they haven’t forgiven him, after all this time?----After watching his siblings die before him, it's finally Klaus's turn. But he worries what awaits him on the other side.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	A Beautiful Death

_Klaus_

The air is shimmering. It moves like light, like water, like the scales of a snake. Its tail dances on his eyelashes and he thinks he has never seen the sky so alive.

He tries to reach to his eyes, to see if they are open; but no, his arms are weighted with stone. The blood in them hums in his ears; is that his bones singing, or him? He cannot remember the last time he heard a song like this. It carries the melody of a hot afternoon on spiked wet grass, in his lap the head of a man he once loved, but whose name he has long forgotten…

So this is it. Finally. Death. The understanding is solid, arrives like a parcel dropped on his chest, so real he thinks he could touch it, if he could move. It brings relief, and the relief brings surprise. He thought that, when it came to it, he would be more afraid of death. He’s been so close before; pressed a toe across the threshold enough times to know that whoever, whatever waits on the other side is not necessarily any better than this. Suffering is suffering, no matter the plane. But suffering together is surely better than suffering alone. And he has been alone for far too long.

A swift blade cuts the sky in two; sends him tumbling into a vast darkness. His thoughts fall with him. What if they are not there to greet him? What if they haven’t forgiven him, after all this time?

The song transforms into a dull moan of pain, though if it comes from him or the shadowed forms that swoop overhead he cannot tell. They must understand, he thinks, as his empty form fills with ash. They must have known that I could not bear to see them, my family, dead. Not while I was so painfully alive. 

And he had tried to reach them, he remembered, back when it was all fresh. He tried when the Hargreeves still held life by the scruff of its neck; when death had only claimed enough of them to spark fires, to illuminate the path to vengeance. After Ben. And after the next to leave them – after Five. 

His living siblings roared their pain at him: Was he really so useless? Could he not get his head together, for once, and talk to their dead brother? But their berating was futile in its familiarity; he was so used to hearing the same words rattle around in his brain between the third and sixth glass, the second pill and the latest shot in the arm, that the repetition of these insults was a perverse salve to his already aching heart. No, it wasn’t their collective rage that convinced him to use his powers; it was Vanya’s plea, uttered the night of the funeral, her eyes lined with red: _For me._

He told her he would try. He stopped it all, endured the chills and the sweats, until he finally felt that door creak open, the one he’d sealed shut for so many months. And he waited.  


Flashes of others came; ghosts of those murdered, savagely, brutally, but he shepherded them back through the door as quickly as they appeared. He didn’t want Five to be frightened off by these angry, spiteful spirits; then again, Klaus thought, maybe now he is just as terrifying. After what happened, he’d have every right to be.

When he finally arrived, it was early morning, the sun just peeking through the blinds. Klaus had been awake, and sober, for over seventy-two hours. His heart shuddered in his chest. 

A shock of blue, at first, and then Five was there, just the same as he’d been in life. Fists shoved in his pockets. Grimacing at the room, taking it all in. There was still blood on his shirt collar. His neck. He didn’t seem to notice. Eventually, his eyes landed on Klaus. Klaus extended his hand. Five frowned, and then took it in his own, a cold, gleaming thing.

 _Tell them it’s okay,_ he had said. _Tell them I don't blame them. Tell to move on._

He gave Klaus a curt nod. Like he was finalizing a deal. And he vanished.

When Vanya saw Klaus the next day, hope bubbling at her lips, Klaus had shrugged. He didn’t make an appearance, he lied, pouring himself a drink. But maybe, if you try again, Vanya said. Klaus was quick to stop her. No, Vanny. He doesn’t want to see us. 

And so the matter was dropped.

He never told any of the others what Five had said. He let them fixate, and fester, as the Hargreeves siblings did best. It was selfish, he knew; but the truth was, he was afraid of what would happen if he did pass on Five’s last wish. That without Five's untimely death uniting them, they would again be loose threads, unspooling in different directions. And he would be left alone, with not even Ben to talk to. Truly, completely, alone.

Funny, really. So afraid he was of losing them that he ended up sending them to their deaths. He let them hunt, and fight, and die for their brother, until Klaus was the only one who remained.

The ash has filled him to his throat now, and he finds it hard to breathe. The End licks his tongue, greets him with a bitter lash. He never did try to summon any of the others, after they died. He was scared of their rage, the blame for their deaths they would surely throw at his back. Staying high was easy. He hasn’t felt the hard edge of reality in years.

The shadows have disappeared. The blackness is absolute, all sound tapered to a yawning silence. It is not unpleasant, the nothingness, though not what he expected. When he visited before, as tourist, not resident, the place was grand, horrifying, beautiful, all at once. He had assumed it would be the same when he was finally admitted. But, he thinks, as his skin weaves with the dark, who is he to deserve a beautiful death?

He realizes he can move, now, though moving is different than it was in life. More like leaping from puddle to puddle than stepping on the pavement in between. Though he has no more sight, he knows there is nothing to see; he is alone, as utterly alone as he was in life. How long was it, in the end? He lost count of the years he spent mourning his siblings; decades, he thinks, though he isn't sure anymore. It doesn't seem to matter. They are not here. Maybe they were transported somewhere else, after death; maybe they refuse to see him. He drips onto a curtain of the void and sinks into its folds. They are still angry. He should have guessed; the Hargreeves do not forgive easily. And he is not an easy person to forgive.

_Klaus_

Someone out there, calling to him, feeling for him.

_Klaus_

He rises from nothing. He reaches out, too; tries to feel, though he is not sure he knows how, here, where he hardly exists. He captures warmth, but it isn’t his.

Brightness scours the dark. He hears them before he sees them, all of them, together, as brilliant as they were in life–

_You think we’d leave without you, dumbass?_

_You took your sweet time. We’ve been waiting, you know._

_Some of us longer than others, might I add._

_Yeah, well, Diego here wanted to charge ahead but I held him back._

_Yeah, right. I could’ve gone if I wanted to._

_Shut up, idiots. It’s almost time to go. Klaus, you ready?_

Klaus is formed whole again. He takes Five's hand. He’s ready.


End file.
